Room of Requirement
by i.am.a.griffin
Summary: After the war Harry returns to the Room of Requirement. What does he find? Neville doesn't return to St. Mungo's but finds something else to tether him to happiness. Finally, a blonde stranger has a lasting grudge against the late Severus Snape. How does this all connect? Read and find out.
1. Nothing Left

Room of Requirement

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Chapter 1: Nothing Left

Harry smacked his lips right into Ginny's without the slightest thought of if he would bruise either of their faces. She responded with a profusion of enthusiasm, pressing herself to his chest however awkwardly one could while kissing and sitting down. But neither of them cared. Nothing was self-conscious to them. Everything was just natural.

He'd never been so acutely certain of anything in his life. He was in no doubt that Ron and Hermione were his friends, he was sure Draco Malfoy would turn out to be an arrogant little git the day he met him, he had been convinced that Voldemort would hide one of his dreaded horcruxes somewhere in Hogwarts, and had always, even with some doubts, been secure subconsciously that he was meant for something. But within all of his certainties and inadequacies, he was absolutely certain that there was no other being in the world, both wizarding and muggle forms, that he would ever feel a capability of wanting the way he wanted Ginny now, the way he'd wanted her all these years. He was sure about this, this girl, this moment.

The war was over. The one his parents had died for; they had not, after all, died in vain for it was their son that had finished it, without conviction or complete knowledge or understanding the entire way.

After he'd visited the Headmaster's office, had everything explained to Hermione and Ron, who deserved it most, Harry had warily made his way to Gryffindor Tower and gone to bed in his cozy and familiar four poster bed, with its scarlet hangings closed tightly. Home, it was. It had been his bed for the greater part of six years. He'd wondered briefly who would occupy it next year but with an utmost lack of vengeful sleep, he was drafted into dreamless slumber.

But the moment he'd woken it wasn't of dead bodies and the destroyed Great Hall that initially entered his mind, nor was it the vision of Tom Riddle's obliterated piece of soul that had resided beside Harry's own completely whole soul his entire life. Instead he thought first of the image of Ginny he had conjured at Bill and Fleur's wedding, the last time he'd seen her before all this mess. The white dress, the hated derisory indolent stranger she strode towards. His stomach clenched with revulsion. At that time there had been a plethora of reasons as to why he would not allow himself to be attached to her.

But with the end of the war, all those reasons were, for the better part, vanquished.

With that thought pulsing through the veins in his temple like a hammer, Harry had stomped down to the Common Room, strode confidently toward the entrance to the girls dormitory, took just the first few steps up, and slid with a thud down to the ground.

"You know you can't go up there. Or is your head really that bugged from war? You'd figure after a full day and a half's sleep you'd be right in the head, but then again you were never really right in the head, given that you've had Voldemort inside it for the past near two decades," Ginny told him, sarcastic as ever, sitting with a book at the window seat across the room. In his determination to see her, he had quite obliviously walked right passed her. With the rising sun her hair, cascading in fiery waves down her back, shined and her skin glowed in the essence of the dim light.

"You shouldn't be saying anything," he told her standing up and facing her from across the floor. He was suddenly quite aware that he was still less than half dressed, just in his shorts, without a shirt. "I wasn't the one who told him all my secrets willingly, wrote them down in nice curly handwriting, all about the infamous Harry Potter, how much I adored him, dotting my i's with little hearts," he said, smiling.

"That is true in all but the little hearts, they're ghastly. But at least that same Harry Potter came to save me when I had Riddle's lovely and outstandingly charismatic piece of soul possessing me to restore his body. Isn't it interesting to think that at the same time Riddle had his soul imbedded in mine, he had another piece right inside of you."

That caught him off guard. "Who told you?"

"And it's interesting how you made an effort to unleash him from me but didn't have the knowledge that it was really you who had to be protected from him. Dumbledore told me." She lowered her eyes from his view, down to her lap. "I just… needed to know what… what happened."

With intended purpose, Harry seemed to rush at her. He pulled her face in his hands. And there they were kissing like they'd never before.

"You know, I'm actually willing to remove the enchantment over the girl's dormitory if you'd like. The Gryffindor Common room is a public place and the rules specifically say that public displays of affection are prohibited."

Ginny and Harry broke apart beaming, gasping for breath, and both a little red in the cheeks. Harry found it odd that Hermione of all people was making such a suggestion.

Ron looked aghast at her. "You've known how after all these years? I would've asked you out much sooner if I'd known that!"

Hermione smacked him in the arm and looked stern but they all laughed heartily, wonderfully.

They both had just stepped into the common room through the portrait of the newly enthusiastic Fat Lady. They both looked still a bit exhausted but clean and fed. And happy: they held hands.

"How did you sleep?" Hermione asked.

"Well," he replied. "Have I really been asleep for a day and a half?" he asked facing Ginny again. She nodded.

"But I'm sure you needed it. No one wanted to wake you, and Professor McGonagall threatened to curse the fingers off of anyone who tried. She stood guard in front of the dorm for a few hours, too."

"Yeah, Zacharias Smith, humble as ever, thought you should help restore Hogwarts after 'all that you put everyone else through.' He pretty much said it was your duty to help clean up and meet with the mourners and all," Ron said scornfully.

"And we knew you'd probably agree with him," Hermione said, as Harry stood to protest. "But you'd done plenty of that before you went to bed. And we'd agreed that you can do all the rest when properly prepared with sufficient sleep."

"Smith is still uncontrollably drooling," Ginny said in admiration of her own work. "So much so, that he can't speak. Rightfully so," she grinned.

Ron gave his sister an admiring smile. "Hogwarts is much more peaceful now."

"If you're hungry you should go get dinner. You too Ginny, the elves are insisting on staying awake until you both eat, especially you Harry. You're the only ones who haven't yet. You should go together," Hermione suggested.

"To talk," Ron added. "No one wants to see," he waved his hand randomly at them, "all that."

Ginny frowned but Harry laughed and again pressed his lips to Ginny's and Ron gave him a playful middle finger.

"But you should go soon, they've refused to sleep, all of them, in honor of you and Dobby. Kreacher is worst of them, won't even sit," Ron told him.

"You already have the girl Ron, you can stop kissing up to her now," Harry told him with a laugh. "Guess the book would work eventually." Harry reminisced of the book Ron had given him for his birthday.

"What book?"

"So dinner?" Harry went on hastily with a warning glance from Ron. "Not breakfast. What time is it?"

"About seven. That sun is setting, not rising, as I'm sure you might've assumed."

Hermione slumped down into a cushy seat and Ron sat on the floor in front of her feet. It was odd to see Hermione slumping, or slouching of any degree. They were still effortlessly and comfortably holding hands. Ginny laced her own fingers in between Harry's and gave them a little squeeze.

They were all silent for a moment. The dormitories upstairs were unoccupied.

Everyone was downstairs in the Great Hall eating or making arrangements for whatever needed to be done. Harry would have to go down soon. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. Not quite yet at least.

Below them, he was sure, the castle was being repaired and cleaned, and bodies had probably already been removed from sight, mourners going home to arrange for funerals, rejoicing for the end of the war. Harry subconsciously raised his hand to his forehead.

"Does it hurt?" Ron asked softly.

Harry shook his head. He smiled wide.

"What are we going to do now?" Hermione asked. "There's so much to do but now it feels like…almost as though…"

"There's nothing left to do at all," Harry finished.

"…yeah…" they all sighed.

Again they were silent.

A hundred worries coursed through him but with these three people around him he felt effortlessly calm.

All three of them walked down to the Great Hall with him. It almost proved to be too much for him and turning around and going back to bed seemed momentarily more profound a task than presenting himself to all of the people whose lives he had saved and likewise who had saved his life. He already knew it but fresh eyes made it all more gut-wrenching to see. The castle was torn to shreds. Where there were gaping holes in the walls, Harry could see out to the dark grounds surrounding them where spots of grass were charred black instead of green. Elsewhere along the corridors were burn marks and piles of rubbish.

But as dismal a walk as this was, it was as though Hogwarts was having him float magically down the stairs. Every lamp and scone glowed with a promise of a better future, of hope and happiness. In many places it was discernible to see where pieces of the stone walls had already been restored. Truly, half of the destruction had already been repaired. There was still much to get done but he knew in his heart it would be by far easier to accomplish than anything he'd attempted in the last year. The portraits called congratulations and thanks as they pushed into frames nearby to follow, Sir Cadogen cheering. Stragglers from dinner waved to him, greeted him, welcomed him.

"Hello Harry. Glad you're alright."

"Alright Harry?"

"Welcome back Harry."

The doors to the Great Hall were open and through Harry could see that this was where the restoration had begun. The room had been returned to its formal glory. The House Tables were still gone but replaced by many more round tables that sat about eight each. People were still eating and chatting but when one person noticed Harry's arrival, everyone's head turned to him. A communal smile and nod of the head welcomed him and that was all.

Harry went straight towards Mrs. Weasley and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh my dear," she said dotingly. He shook Mr. Weasley's hand. He could hardly talk but he hoped this would suffice as a hold for the huge debt he must repay them in love and hope and parenting.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, glanced at her daughter with a twinkle in her eye and smiled. "Come. You must be famished."

Harry sat in between eight Weasley's and Hermione for two hours while he and Ginny ate. They did not ask him questions. He listened as they conversed with one another, expressing both joy and grief and shifting gracefully past the latter.

At about midnight, Harry excused himself from the table and searched the corridors, finally finding Professor McGonagall in her office.

"Oh Harry," she said at the sight of him, coming around her desk to embrace him. It only felt peculiar for a moment, being hugged by his teacher, but the warmth the woman exuded quickly made the awkwardness dissipate. "You must have many questions."

"Er, just one for now…there's a room up on the seventh floor -"

"The Room of Requirement, yes," Minerva acknowledged.

"A fire broke loose inside during the fight and I was wondering if it was cleared up."

Minerva nodded. "Yes, the fire was remedied in a moment. It is safe go inside."

"Thanks Professor," Harry said and he made his way out of the door and upstairs.

Funny, Minerva thought. Harry wasn't the first to ask about the room.

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**Thank you so much for reading! Please review! Also, take a look at my main story Make it in Time.**


	2. Remembering the Room of Requirement

**Thanks to Jessica682 for reviewing!**

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Chapter Two: Remembering the Room of Requirement

He walked slowly up the corridor; he was nearly afraid of what he'd see when he arrived. He'd been told that it was all right, that the damage had been more or less repaired. Nor did it matter much to anyone else if the damage hadn't been, since after all, it was over, all over. Yet he did not wish for the meaning of this room to vanish and felt the desire to restore it to its glory after what had happened. He had to see it himself.

"Just do it," he encouraged himself.

He walked past the wall three times but had to try again because he wasn't initially sure which form of the room he wanted to see. But when his mind was made he passed by thrice in thought and the door, just as it always had, large and grand with splendor, appeared before him. His heart warmed with the memory of escape, comfort, and retaliation that the room had so often inspired in him; in so many others.

McGonagall and Flitwick had vanquished the fiery curse just after the Battle of Hogwarts had ended, after bodies were moved and secondary issues such as this could be attended to; after Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, finally after all these years. Many had said that there were other things more important to take care of than the beastly flames that scoured the tapestries and wallpaper of the room in the corridor on seventh floor but both of the professors had insisted and naturally Harry would not have argued.

The room held so much emotion, so much determination. So much had taken place in this room that Harry would not know how he would bear it if the flames had truly engulfed the room, making it un-enterable. But McGonagall and Flitwick had told him it was all right. They'd said they'd put out the fire. He shuddered at the memory of the beasts chasing after them as he'd dived down to save his long time school enemy, as he curved to attain the dusty old crown that would moments later crack in half with a half-heart whimper of defeat.

It was the place where hopes of supporting Dumbledore had been firmly established, where Harry Potter had taught his peers the most he knew about defending themselves from Dark magic. It was where he'd taught Hermione and Ginny and Ron and Neville and the others how to produce Patronuses. And taught that gitty little Hufflepuff about his ever so famous Disarming Charm. A place of refuge for those who stood against the persecutions of Dolores Umbridge, who stood by Harry…Voldemort, had returned. Harry had had his first kiss with Cho Chang under Dobby's mistletoe that one Christmas… What an odd evening it had been, her crying all over him. He chuckled at the thought of Cho's enthusiasm to show him Ravenclaw Tower only a few evenings ago. Ginny had not even let her have a chance. He had been a boy then, anyhow.

He'd hidden his Potion's book in the very cabinet that would lead to cause Dumbledore's downfall, a fall down from Astronomy Tower, after cursing the boy who would later be the one to fix and use the cabinet to get Death Eaters into the school. It was Snape's book, his created curse; Snape would kill Dumbledore…after being asked to do so by the wretched brilliant old man himself. He shook his head still half in disbelief. How could he feel so familiar to a man who had loathed him, who he'd loathed in return for years? Who his mother had befriended even against the grain of a Gryffindor…even he had not been gallant enough to consider a Slytherin benevolent…not after all he'd been through.

Again he shook the tormenting thoughts from his head. The room. The door was still there and he was still lamely standing before it, thoughts jumbled.

The Room of Requirement had served at last as a liaison between Hogwarts and the outside world, as a safe house for the prosecuted. It symbolized to Harry Potter the viability of diversity and of acceptance. And because it was still effective, the immortality of values, victory of good.

Not even Dumbledore's office held as much meaning; it held just the presence and spirit of the old wizard, not the mass moving desire to fight for the rights of friends and those who couldn't fight for themselves. It was tainted, nearly tainted by the late Severus Snape, who Harry had no words that would seem reasonable to any listening stranger to explain how he felt of the man. He would though, ensure the man's portrait hung proudly in that office.

Pride lined the crevices of the old door as he stepped through, holding his breath. He nearly retched stepping in, amazed at what he saw, making him gasp more air then his lungs had the capacity to hold, air that was polluted with smoke and ash. The Room of Hidden things was charred and empty, but for a few piles of dusty ash blanketing the ground. The walls, the floor, the ceiling was all black, as if it had been painted or charmed as such. The bust of the old warlock was gone. Books, swords and axes, stolen goods, misshapen magical items, the enormous troll…gone as though shoved into limbo between the Vanishing Cabinets but those were gone too. All in the ashes that his feet trod upon. Crabbe's ashes were within them. Git.

Harry walked across the room silently and leaned his back against the opposite wall. It was empty. It was hard for Harry to wrap his head around, though he'd accepted it the moment they'd flown coughing and gasping for fresh air from the door. He slumped down to the floor and with his elbows resting on his knees he held his head with his hands. There were streaks on the wall where his back had slid and wiped at the ash.

He was disappointed. But it wasn't the end of the world.

He chuckled to himself. Few knew only how great the possibility of that had been. But it was over.

"Hey mate. It's all really gone, huh?"

Neville Longbottom walked easily toward him. He sat down beside him, making a similar streak along the wall with his back. Harry had come to realize the bravado that Neville had finally shown after all the years of childish diffidence. He praised Neville for his bravery. Nagini's head had leapt from her body so swiftly, Harry had almost missed it. But he would never forget the image of the trail of black blood from the neck of the snake splatter against the flaming Sorting Hat to relinquish the tiding flickers of heat that had burnt Neville's face and neck. His face was still harshly scarred from the burns.

"It's gone."

"It was home to me for a long time. I hadn't had that for a while, my parents being gone and all. I had Gran but it wasn't the same I guess." Neville sighed. "You know," he added, seeming to just remember that Harry too hadn't any parents to grow up with either.

He was instantly reminded that this was the last place Harry had seen Tonks. Teddy would be just like the both of them, him and Neville, living the rest of his life without parents, parents who had given themselves up for the greater good. He'd make sure Teddy grew up knowing his parents as heroes.

"You know, I always had this feeling you were something greater than me. But I knew that I was supposed to be important somehow. I never really believed it until I understood how you influenced people. When you show people you won't give up, you inspire them. When you left, I tried it. I tried to influence people. Being a leader of the revolution…it felt like…like I should've been there as a stand in for you. Being in this room, teaching and caring for all these fighters, it was like I was almost supposed to be there myself. I don't know…"

Every irony was funny to Harry these days and so when he laughed quite wildly out loud Neville stared at him as though he'd lost his mind, as if after all this it would be a surprise anyway.

"Well Neville…you actually almost were."

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**Some of you might have read this chapter with a little extra tacked on to the end. It wasn't meant to be there! So just pretend it didn't happen, which is okay, because it won't happen. I've updated it so now it's correct. And if you've just read this chapter well, you can totally ignore this. :) Thanks for reading!**


	3. Portrait of Ariana Dumbledore

**Thanks to Jessica682, Lumos Duo, NewProphecy, OliviaKatetheGreat, and all anonymous reviewers for reading, reviewing, alerting or favoriting!**

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Three: Portrait of Ariana Dumbledore

All of the hangings around the room were still up, even after all these weeks, and the cots, belongings left behind too were all there, unharmed. But the walls were black, charred to a crisp, just as the Room of Hidden Things had been. The Portrait of Ariana Dumbledore smiled down at him.

"Hi, Ariana."

She nodded her greeting and sat on the floor of her portrait with her legs crossed. She smiled.

"Don't you think Aberforth misses you after spending all this time with me?" Neville asked standing in front of her, looking up with his hands dug into the pockets of his robes.

Again she nodded but she shrugged. She put her chin in her hands and her eyes glittered down at him.

Neville chuckled, trying to hide the edge in his voice. "I know you don't care but he's been good to me over the past few months, and everyone else who's escaped in here. You should spend a bit more time with him. I took his food. I won't take his sister too."

Ariana rolled her eyes and made no effort to move. She looked quite comfortable where she sat.

Neville felt his hands trembling. He shoved them deeper into his pockets, perhaps to save Ariana the worry over him. But what he'd been told, in this very room, had him in this state. Because it had nearly been him. He made his way across the room and sat himself on the cot he'd slept on for the past few months and leaned his back against the wall, ash staining the back of his shirt even more. He smiled at the portrait.

Ariana glared.

"I don't care if my shirt gets dirty, it's already grimy anyways. And it's just ash." Even as he told her this she looked as though she would leap from her sanctuary in the portrait to clean him off.

It'd taken Harry all night to give Neville every detail and now the sun was rising slowly. Neville was surely shocked at the news Harry had told him. He didn't suppose he knew what he was going to do with the information. Granted it didn't matter much, now that the war was over. And Harry had won, Harry was alive. So it wasn't as though much would change now that he knew. Harry Potter was not just the Boy Who Lived but was literally the Chosen One. He was chosen by Voldemort himself.

Professor Trelawney had made it clear that it might've been either of them. Harry had repeated it to Neville word for word.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"

But perhaps, simply because he was a pureblood, Neville hadn't been chosen by Tom Riddle. Would Neville's mother have jumped in between the Killing Curse and her son the way Lily Potter had? Would Neville have died? Snape wouldn't have spied for Dumbledore…Snape had only done that because he was in love with Harry's mum…? Imagining the late greasy Potions-master as someone with a substantial capacity for love was a bizarre idea. Maybe this love caused the life-long bitterness he emitted upon all of his students.

Neville knew what it felt like to love someone who was dead, murdered nearly. He vowed though, to never be bitter over it.

But if Voldemort had chosen him instead of Harry…they might not have won. Neville wasn't as strong as Harry, everyone knew that.

Horcruxes. A shiver went down Neville's spine as he imagined Voldemort's torn and rotting pieces of soul strewn across the afterlife, confused and bloody and decaying and writhing on the floor, mangled in vines of pulsing black veins.

"You alright?" Harry had asked once he'd finished telling him.

"Yeah...shocked of course..."

Harry pat him on the arm. They sat together in silence for a bit, both of them mulling things over in their minds. So much had been finished. So much, and nothing left to do.

"What are we going to do now?"

Harry had been one of them. The snake, Nagini, Harry had called it, had been another one. The book, the ring…Neville tried to remember…the cup of Hufflepuff, the diadem of Ravenclaw…Slytherin's locket. Those that had been owned by Hogwarts founders now lay partially destroyed in thick magically protected glass displays in the Entrance Hall seven floors below them. The others were completely destroyed, snake beheaded, book stabbed, ring sliced, and Harry's soul completely his own.

"I wonder if there's a certain point to how many times you can rip your soul into tiny little bits before you go mad or die," Neville thought aloud. Ariana's face grew red with disbelieving rage. "I'm not going to go and be a git who tries it," Neville countered at her silent accusation. "You surely know that. Not after all the murder and madness I've seen. I'm not capable of murder."

Ariana nodded once more. She seemed to relax back into the portrait, her head leaning back while still letting her eyes linger on Neville as she laughed silently. She twirled her long golden hair between her fingers.

Neville watched her for a few moments and let his eyes fall to his lap.

The war was over.

And now he had no idea what to do with himself.

He knew though that he wasn't going to leave Hogwarts. It was his home now, as it had been for so long. He'd stay here for as long as he could.

He also was sure that he would not return to St. Mungo's. Not anymore. It was time for him to move forward with his life. He was stuck in the idea of his parents becoming healthy again and sixteen years later Neville was stuck in this ever revolving rut. Many people would despise him, feel he abandoned his parents. Gran of course would be there for them, be the first to accuse him of deserting his family. He sighed at the thought of Gran, after all this time trying to be glorified in her eyes, to be seen as highly as his parents, as a fighter. Only now, during the war did she finally see his proven abilities and he was going to shove her approval down the drain to live the rest of his life. But in his heart he knew that his parents, if they stood behind him healthy and well and saw his life the way he did now, they would understand, even probably hope he would eventually move on and passed the dreary halls of the hospital where only discouragement and sadness enveloped him.

Neville now had other reasons to live, other than for his grandmother's approval, other than to care for his insane parents, other than to achieve grades and be the simple indolent provocation of fights between Gryffindors and Slytherins, other than to lead a force against the Dark Lord. He looked intently at Ariana once more, who was gazing back down at him, perpetual in her happiness. She gave him a sad little smile, understanding all that was in his head without him having to tell her.

"I think I'll go for a walk. To clear my head. Go and send Aberforth my regards."

With a nod, Ariana stood, turned around, and began to walk toward her other portrait in the Hog's Head bar.

Neville passed the Great Hall and everyone at breakfast and left the castle, making his way out toward the Forest. He found it no surprise that he had little appetite. His thoughts jumbled around in his head as they often did, mixed up and confused. Actually, it was only the last few months where he felt the cloudiness in his head clear. Now that the war was over it was clouded it all up again.

Approaching the edge of the Forest with little worry, he held up his guard just in case but felt sure that now, nothing would really be there to accost him. Over the past few days the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army (the older bunch of the latter, including Neville) had gone into the Forbidden Forest to search for any runaways. They'd found a few and had pretty much cleared and cleaned the entire forest. While it was still dark and still crawling with dark creatures and mysterious things, Neville was no longer afraid of the treacherous dark depths of it.

Neville silently glided through without a path, thinking about what he was feeling. It was so different to him that he barely knew what exactly to think. He had feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him want to bend over and puke. But it wasn't helping him much. It was actually almost annoying. If he didn't know what was causing it he might think he was sick. Maybe he was just a different kind of sick. Like love-sick. He might've asked Harry for advice, certainly not Ron, but his situation was so much graver than what Harry was experiencing now. Neville had been the lucky one, not having been chosen but now that that was all over Neville saw Harry as the lucky one. He had what he wanted. Ginny.

The girl he was after was not attainable and his heart and stomach clenched with the pain of it. Seeing her before the battle was wonderful. He knew it right then, right as he was about to fight the worst of the evil, the Death Eaters. And after the war, death had taken its toll, making itself more present in his life than ever before. Now that the war was over he could actually mull this thought over, one that had been effortlessly pushed wayward while in such danger.

A giant spider hissed at him and he waved his wand rather simply, making it scuttle away. He heard the trees around him rustle and he knew the spider's friends had abandoned their potential meal as well. He walked without a purpose, just thinking.

Naturally stumbling, half aware of his surroundings in a dark forest, with vines like branches scouring the floor Neville tripped. Again, he hadn't been surprised really. He had, since he was a boy, been clumsy to the point that he would always have a few knocks and knees bruises. However, he was rather shocked at the gaping hole in his shin, bleeding profusely down his leg. After a moment of clear thinking, he came to the conclusion it was just one of his prior wounds re-cut open by the scraggy and rocky ground that Neville could hardly see for the thick cut trees.

After magically nursing his wound back to a scabular form and charming the threads of his pants back together, he searched for what had been so sharp to cut him.

"Lumos," he whispered kneeling close to the ground.

As the small light at the tip of his wand ignited he saw clearly what had scraped him; a small, scratched up, half cracked, stepped on stone covered in his blood. Normally, anyone would've passed right by it as just some other rock, but it was quite obvious that it wasn't. Or it could've been some other rock but not in this setting. It was much too angular and dark to be some shard from one of the larger boulders in the forest. The rock looked completely different.

"Aguamenti," he said and from his wand spouted a light fountain of water, cleansing the stone from his blood. He dried it off on his shirt and inspected it.

After a while he'd forgotten about it but absentmindedly continued to spin it in his hands. His head filled with thoughts of the girl he knew he loved and somberness enveloped him as he made his way back out of the Forest. And what he saw next would redeem his love and care for the one girl who'd captured his heart.

* * *

Hermione and Harry sat underneath the stars in the Great Hall a week later. Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys left for the Burrow to prepare for Fred's funeral. Harry and Hermione would meet them in a few days but for the time being they remained at the castle, continuing with the repair and restoration.

"I'm glad that you're okay, Harry," Hermione said. "I never got the chance to say that to you. Not really."

"Well Ron's been taking up all your free time with snogging," Harry joked and Hermione slapped his arm.

"He hasn't!" she giggled. She looked over at him and he returned her gaze with an understanding look. "It's been hard on all of us. We've really just been talking a lot. You know, about Fred, and Remus and Tonks…do you need someone to talk to, Harry? I know how it feels for me but it must be entirely different for you."

Harry offered a half smile. "I'm alright Hermione. Ginny's been great. She wants to listen. She's actually incredible." Hermione smiled, glad that they were both smitten and in love even in such a horrible time. "It's just I can't get over the feeling of being alone and she keeps saying – "

"That you have us. I know, she told me. It's true. But I can understand what you mean. Without Remus…"

"Without him it's like I've lost every bit of my parents. He was all that was left. Sirius is gone, Remus is gone…and Snape. I can't even wrap my head around it. It's all because of him that I sit here alive and I can't even tell him thank you. And I hated him for all this time."

Hermione held Harry's hand. "If it's any consolation, he hated you too."

If there was anything to laugh about now it was this and the both of them burst into a fit of laughter neither of them could control. Everything was just so obscenely outrageous. Everything that had happened in the last year was hardly comprehendible and yet they comprehended it. In due time, they'd all be happy. The whole in their hearts that this war had caused would be filled with the love each had for the other.

"Neville's been acting strange these past few days," Hermione commented. "Been quiet, keeping to himself. Luna says it's unlike him."

Harry nodded. "I would assume so. He'll be fine. I told him about the prophecy. You know," he offered.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe that's it. Someone told me he and Lavender Brown had become a bit close hidden away in the Room of Requirement. Apparently he saw her for the first time a few days ago."

"How?" Harry asked simply.

"Greyback," she answered solemnly and he understood the gruesome image Neville must've seen.

But they both knew only time could heal their wounds. With all hope, everything would be in the past and they could move on with their lives. With all hope.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please tell me how you feel!**


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